


A Mother's Affection

by FunkMcLovin



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkMcLovin/pseuds/FunkMcLovin
Summary: Written for GothStuck Zine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	A Mother's Affection

The ribbon cinched Rose's waist, causing the air to leave her chest. It was tight, but it didn't bother Miss Lalonde. The pressure was welcome, almost comforting, like a weighted blanket curled around her stomach. Cloth brushed against cloth, her feet leaving the ground, skirt whipping in the wind. Around her crackled slow strikes of black lightning, arcing from her in waves against the walls of her bedroom.

  
"Finally..." She whispered, a murmur in the din only she could hear. Rose's room was a tornado of chaos, books hurtling from the shelves, energy swirling around her, deep, dark pinks and blacks crackling and snapping, like she was made of electricity.

  
"Finally!" She repeated, her words rising above the tumult, her head cast skyward. "It worked!" She cried, like a woman possessed- For of course, she was.  
"The power... The power!" She said, her usual verbosity lost in the face of the new arcane strength surging through her. "Finally, it is all mine! Ha-!" Rose let loose a laugh. She so seldom laughed, it felt strange, so unhinged to let them spill forth, cackling like the witch she was.

  
"Muahahaha!"  
She laughed hard, head thrown back, arms widening beside her, raising slowly to the heavens. Her room was afire, now, wreathed in dark flame, torn asunder by-  
Knock, knock.

  
"Hey, sweetie, supper's ready!"  
A saccharine voice cut through the chaos like scissors through paper. Rose's laugh caught in her throat. The swirling maelstrom in her room stopped in an instant, her books and trinkets all falling to the ground.

  
"I made your favorite! Apple pie is for dessert, too."

Rose gawked at her bedroom door. In a reflex, a Pavlovian response, her face screwed up into a growling, pouty mask.

  
"Mooo-ooooom! Stop interrupting my dark communion with the ancient gods!"

  
The dinner table was long, almost comically so. It was more of a banquet table, really, stretching all the way down the high-ceilinged dining room the Blondes occupied. Rose sat at one end and her mother sat down right next to her. Rose sighed, grumbling, wishing Miss Lalonde would get the hint and sit further away. As usual, Roxanne appeared to be blind to her daughter's irritation.

  
"So how's the, uh, dark magic rituals, sweetie?" Asked Roxanne, digging in. The meal was meatloaf with no side-dish. Roxanne sipped wine, Rose opted for water.

  
"They aren't rituals, mother," Rose said with an edge to her voice. "A ritual involves a sacrifice or a dance or something. This is summoning. You'd know the difference if you listened to me." Rose picked at the food. She wished her mother would stop trying to cook. Roxanne was awful at it, the meatloaf looked to be overcooked and under seasoned. Rose took a reluctant bite. At least it was edible.

  
"Right, right!" Roxanne replied, halfway finished with her meatloaf, pouring herself another glass of wine. She coughed, shifting in her seat. "Do you need any more candles or anything?"  
Rose swallowed her meatloaf, eyes suddenly cast downwards at the table. She felt a little sheepish, now. She did need more candles, but it felt strange to ask after she'd been so icy to her mother.

  
A mother shouldn't be supportive of Rose's work. A mother should be worried about their daughter if she holed up in her room all day, doing incantations. Moms were supposed to worry when daughters wore bleached hair, strapped boots to their knees, mothers should hate fishnet sleeves and garish skirts that made it hard to sit. Roxanne wasn't worried, she was happy for Rose, she was proud when Rose's eyes turned white and glowed with the power of malevolent forces. Mothers shouldn't support this. But here Roxanne was: Asking Rose if she needed more candles.

  
"I could use a few more," Rose said softly.

  
"Okay! I'll pick some up on the way home tomorrow."

  
The rest of the meal was silent. Rose felt a familiar strangeness settle over her. She couldn't eat anymore. Surreal anger was rising in her, slowly boiling, teenage rage she didn't know the source of.

  
"How's the loaf, Rosie?" Asked Roxanne, her voice untainted by strain, as though she couldn't read the room. The question was simple, but there was something about the innocence of Roxanne's voice that made Rose snap.

  
"Awful," growled Rose in a low voice. Roxanne's hand paused on the way to her mouth. Rose looked at her mother. She didn't know why, but she wished Roxanne would rise to the bait for once. She wished Roxanne would react. She hoped, for some perverse reason that her mother would finally snap and yell, or cry, or emote in any fashion other than the mild smile Roxanne always seemed to wear. It felt so phony to Rose, it felt false, and it hurt.

  
"Awful?" Roxanne repeated. Rose's breath made her chest heave.

  
"It's awful, mother. It's overcooked. Even I can tell, and I've never so much as touched the stove top. It doesn't even have any salt on it. Are you too stupid to season your food? Is that it?" Rose's breath was coming more quickly, adrenaline pulsing in her veins. She didn't know why it felt so right to lash out, why she felt so desperate, why her heart was beating like it was.  
But in the face of Rose's bald, raw emotion, Roxanne just chuckled, putting the fork back down on her plate. There was a sad look in Roxanne's eyes, but it was gone in an instant.

"Heh. You're probably right. I just don't want us eating all packaged stuff, y'know?" Roxanne took Rose's plate, walking to the kitchen, heels clacking on the marble, filling the enormous dining room with a dull echo. The kitchen door swung shut behind her.

Rose was stunned. Baffled. It was like Roxanne lived in another world. Rose felt something snap in her. She was mad. If Roxanne wouldn't rise to her jabs, she would make her. She pushed the chair back with an arcane push, the seat tipping back, sliding back across the floor. Rose stood, hovering an inch off the ground, her pupils disappearing into her Clara, shrouded in a dark aura. She would show her mother what dark magic rituals were.

Yes, this felt so right. Her mother wouldn't be able to ignore her like this. Roxanne couldn't turn away and flee into the kitchen. Rose was strong. The power of the elder gods flowed inside her body, and she would force her mother to show some other emotion, to break down that infuriating, heartbreaking mask Roxanne always wore. Rose floated to the kitchen door, wrenching it open.

Inside, Roxanne was hunched over the sink, shoveling meatloaf into the garbage disposal. It groaned under the strain of half an uneaten slab of crispy loaf so Roxanne ran the water. Over the din of the grinder, she hadn't noticed Rose enter, blind as usual to anything Rose did. Rose opened her mouth to speak just as the garbage disposal spun down, but a different sound emerged, a sound that made Rose's icy heart evaporate into steam.

Roxanne sniffled. She lingered over the sink for a moment, wiping her eyes with a sleeve, a single tear falling into the basin with a small, soft "plop." Roxanne's hands gripped the basin so tightly that her knuckles were white, arms shaking. She looked to be on the verge of tears, trying desperately to keep from breaking down.

"Fuck," Roxanne whispered, her body relaxing, slumping forward a little as she reached with a shaky hand for her third glass of wine. She turned, finally noticing Rose. Roxanne's eyes went wide, big and red, puffy from tearing up, makeup smudged.

"Oh!" Said Roxanne, her face twisting into a forced smile. Rose recoiled from the face. Before, Rose had felt such rage at Mother's Mask, but now, seeing Roxanne's dark lips curl like that, Rose felt like she might be sick. "Sorry, baby, the onions I cut for the ole loaf must still be doing their thing." She waved her hand, laughing lightly as she downed her wine.

Rose was frozen in place, mouth open. She didn't know what to say. She had been about to tell Roxanne off, but in a moment, that plan had been shattered.

"You were crying," Rose said. She didn't mean for her words to sound like an accusation, but she didn't know how else to make her voice sound. Roxanne didn't seem to know what to do, either. Mom sat the glass down. This time, she didn't refill it.

"Yeah, I was," Roxanne said after a moment.

"Why?" Rose's voice, again, came accusatory without meaning to, but she was almost incredulous. She didn't know her mother could even feel things. Roxanne shrugged.

"Rough day," she said, like she hadn't thought about why she'd been crying herself.

"Do you..." Rose paused. She'd played therapist before, on her cat, but in truth, she was out of her league. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Roxanne looked surprised at Rose's words. She laughed, but the laugh that came from her wasn't a polite chuckle, it was a hearty guffaw, followed by a ruffle to Rose's hair. Rose felt so strange. She was finally getting the reacting she'd been craving, but now that she got it, it felt like she'd let a genie out of the bottle.

"You wouldn't want to hear this old lady talk about her shitty day, Rosie," said Roxanne, blowing air out with her cheeks. Still, she stared down at Rose with a curious look. "But if you want to make it better, you can apologize for what you said about the meatloaf."

"I'm sorry," Rose said, her words coming before she could think. "I didn't mean that, mother. I've just been having a shitty day, myself, I think."

"Hey!" Roxanne prodded Rose in the chest playfully. "Don't swear just 'cause mom does, got it?"

Rose's mouth turned into a smile. A sly grin, and she prodded her mother right back.

"Let me guess. Do as I say, not as I do?"

"Yeah! You're gettin' it. Now come into the den and tell me about your, uh. Dark magic non-rituals."

Rose wasn't sure what had just happened, but At that moment, she felt like a chasm had just snapped shut. She felt silly about her actions before, about reprimanding her mother so childishly. She watched Roxanne walk back into the dining room. She still hated the smell of wine that shrouded Roxanne like an aura, and she still hated that mask her mother wore, but Rose, for one fleeting second, she also saw the person behind them.

"C'mon," Roxanne said, "I'll crack open the Scrabble."

"Coming, mom," Rose said, trotting to catch up.


End file.
